


Give Me My Sin Again

by star_named_andy



Series: Shakespeare Does a Funny Thing [14]
Category: The Hobbit (1977), The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Barduil - Freeform, Depression, F/M, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, References to Shakespeare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-01
Updated: 2015-06-01
Packaged: 2018-04-02 07:14:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4051066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/star_named_andy/pseuds/star_named_andy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I want you to breathe, and remember, I never give up.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Give Me My Sin Again

**Author's Note:**

> (Disclaimer: I do not own the Hobbit, Lord of the Rings, or any of its characters or content. I also make no claims to owning any of William Shakespeare's work.)

When Bard woke next, he was in a bright white space. He squinted his eyes at the glowing lights that greeted his sight as he opened his eyes. A murmuring of voices circulated around him and he looked up: his mother, father, and strangers in scrubs were ogling at him from above…a hospital? But that wasn’t right…no, it was! He had already been in the hospital for his broken nose. Yes, it was all coming back now, even the unpleasant parts.

A horrid image his own brain constructed flashed before his eyes: a once pristine, white audi smashed in at all sides with the paint splattered with the precious blood that flowed through the being that was Thranduil Oropherion. There was shattered glass, cameras, men in professional uniforms and people crying, but no Thranduil. He was gone. Gone _forever_.

He sucked breath down his throat and sat up in a jolt. He screamed, but he was too weak to do so for long. His whole body felt as if it were trapped underwater; he felt lightness overcome his limbs, yet he struggled to move. The hands around him tightened and the voices surrounding him were rising into clarity. None of their words mattered. He turned his incredibly heavy head (so it felt) from side to side as he looked for his cellphone. Mrs. Oropherion, Miluiel, Thranduil’s mother – she had been on the phone. She was telling him about Thranduil. He was in a car accident. He was in the hospital. He _needed_ Bard. He had to be there with him _now_.

“Where issit?” he slurred and felt around with his hands frantically. Soft palms touched his face and turned his head. It was his mother he faced now.

“Bard, sweetie, talk to us. Are you alright?” she spoke.

“Can you stand?” one of the nurses asked.

“Come on, let’s get up and get you into bed, Bard.” a doctor added and the brunette shook his head. No. A bed would not do. A car was what he needed.

“I have to go!” he proclaimed and started lifting himself to stand.

“Whoa, slow down!” Brent spoke up as he grabbed for Bard’s shoulder, but he had swiped his phone up from the floor, was on his feet, and on his way down the hall. He didn’t get far before drifting toward the wall and slumping against it. Everything moving in his vision was lagging and he was dizzy beyond belief. His father caught up to him easily and the others soon followed, swarming the distressed brunette again. He was cornered by concerned expressions and none of them were the intact face he wanted to see.

“I have to go, da! Just trust me, I have to! It’s Thranduil! I _have_ to go!” he exclaimed.

“Bard, calm down.” Bard spoke firmly, clamping his grip down on Bard’s shaking shoulders.

“I need to go! I need to go NOW!”

“Honey, you’re not stable enough to go anywhere.” Runa said gently and a cry surfaced from Bard’s throat; he could feel strength failing his legs and darkness threatening to drag him under an opaque curtain of nothingness all over again. He began to slide down the wall, but his father held him upright.

“I will carry you. You don’t have a choice, Bard.”

“If you carry me anywhere, you’ll carry me to him.” Bard retorted. His gaze the last thing he could control and though it was sharp, it cut through Brent in a different way that made his insides shudder. He’d never seen his son so desperate, so broken. “ _Please_. I need you to do this for me, da. I need you to take me to him.” Bard whispered. With a glance back at his wife, Brent made the decision on his own and gave a nod to assure his son that everything would be alright. He would do what he could to make things right. His adrenaline enabled him to swoop his son up with ease and he did not need to exchange any words with his wife, for she knew what to do.

Brent stormed through the hospital with his grip on Bard unwavering as Runa stayed behind to settle the expenses. He hurried to the car they’d driven there and sat Bard in the passenger seat. He buckled him up straightaway without asking whether or not he could do it himself. There was no time to be wasted.

“Where am I going?” he asked as he climbed into the driver’s side and pulled the door shut.

“I-I don’t know…I have to call Miluiel back, find out the address.”

“Do you want me to call?”

“No, I have to.”

Brent opened the middle console and pulled out a pen and paper, setting them on Bard’s lap. Bard pressed his phone against his ear and Brent stared closely until his expression changed, indicating someone had answered his call. He listened as Bard spoke quickly and scribbled a combination of letters and numbers on the scrap paper he’d given him. With the GPS built into his smartphone, Bard entered the address and started giving his father directions from their local hospital to get to a new one.

Brent couldn’t help but notice Bard fidgeting and rocking in his seat incessantly. There were wrinkles stuck in his skin that formed the most morose and worried expression Brent had never seen Bard make and it made him feel as if his heart had shriveled up and could easily be ripped apart like wet paper. His poor son was broken nosed, swollen faced, rapt with uneasiness, all because of love. He never wanted things to be like this for Bard. This was one of every parent’s nightmares. He sat quietly obeying Bard’s instructions for a while, exhaling heavily every now and then and tightening his hold on the steering wheel to calm himself. No matter what he was feeling, what was important was Bard and Thranduil was important to Bard despite all that had happened. All Brent knew was that something bad happened, his son got hurt, and the young man his son had so happily brought into their home was now a blown open door spilling out with secrets. The blonde young man was plagued with many a dark illness and currently in the hospital. He was alive, but every other detail of his condition was unknown. He had to stay in check and keep himself from causing a scene. _For Bard, for Bard_ …there was still love between the two, after all. One mishap wouldn’t change that and right now, love was all Bard had to cling to as his beloved’s life was hanging in the balance.

What a feeling it must have been, to be hanging on the edge, now knowing whether the person you loved most in the world was bending to the whims of the hands of death, coldness overcoming them, all will to live stifled by overwhelming darkness. Brent reached over and rested his hand lightly over Bard’s, calming his tremoring into motionlessness. It was the only comfort he could think to give and as tears slipped over Bard’s puffy skin, he squeezed harder.

Of course the hospital they’d been directed to was surrounded by traffic. Now that it was in sight, Bard was evidently ready to jump out of the car. Brent forced him to wait circling endlessly until finally they found a parking spot. As soon as the vehicle came to a halt in the space, Bard leapt from the car. He stopped himself, telling himself to wait for his dear da who had driven him all that way. He did so as patiently as possible and then sped up to the large, ominous edifice that towered over him. This building would either be his salvation or his end.

Brent kept up with Bard as he practically ran inside and rushed forward to the directory desk. He spat out Thranduil’s name and the receptionist cast an odd stare on him before noticing how deep in despair the brunette was.

“Thranduil Oropherion…yes, he’s just coming out of the intensive care unit.” She spoke and Bard gripped the desk. He wasn’t sure if he would explode or faint.

“Intensive care?” he repeated.

“Yes. If you will sit in the waiting room, I will let you know when he is moved to a new room and send you up right away.”

“Um…yeah, okay, alright. Thanks.”

Waiting even longer was the last thing Bard wanted to do, but there was no way to bypass such a nuisance. He couldn’t sit, so he paced outside of the waiting area as not to bother anyone else sitting there. His eyes kept flickering back to the directory desk and to his phone for the time. He checked the time at least four times every minute and was getting frustrated by how slow time seemed to be going by. After watching this anxiety ridden ritual, Brent rose and approached his son, bringing him to a halt as he rested a hand on his shoulder.

“Bard, you need to take moment for yourself and calm down before you see him.” He said and Bard let out a heavy exhale.

“How can I be calm?” he questioned.

“Just think: what would you want Thranduil to do if you were in his position?”

Bard let himself sink into his thoughts for a moment and a scene played itself out in his head: Thanduil’s smiling, angelic face was there in front of him. Thranduil was there, standing tall and graceful above him with so much sweetness and elegance radiating from him that he seemed to have a sparkling aura shrouding him. Everything about him was relaxed and welcoming. The back of his hand swept gently over Bard’s jaw and then his palm rested on his neck, cooling the spot on his hot skin. Bard melted under the touch; this was _his_ Thranduil, the one he knew, the one he loved, the one that was free of lurking diseases yanking the chains they had on him. The corner of his pink lips turned up just slightly to give a playful smirk.

“I know you’re not having all of this fuss over me.” He said with a chuckle weaving through his words.

“You know me better than that, Thran. Of course it’s over you.” Bard answered and an unrestrained grin revealed itself. “You’ve been putting me through hell lately, but if it’s to hell and back I must follow you to, then I will, because when we’re back, the journey will have been worth it.”

“Always with the poetic words. You are too wonderful to honor with words, or gestures, even…though I could try to show you how much you are worth to me.”

“Now is not the time for seduction.” Thranduil shrugged with his smile still lingering on his lips and Bard wanted to kiss him, but there were bounds keeping him from doing so. Thranduil could see the suffering in his face and cupped it, looking deeply into his eyes. “I just need you to be okay so I can tell you everything will be okay and you can tell me everything will be okay!”

“You know me better than anyone, Bard Bowman. I may do some crazy shit, but I never give up, not even when depression rears its ugly head or alcohol tries to drown me. _I never will give up_. You know that and I know that too, but sometimes I just need a little help remembering that. We all need a little reminder sometimes. I am so grateful for all you do and all you will do for me, Bard. _You are the reason I never want to give up_. Please, just allow me this moment of weakness, help me pick myself up, and let me begin to heal so I may be there for you like you are for me. One day you’ll be the one that needs a lift first, and I will give all I have to bring you back into the light, but this time around, I need to be helped first.”

“I don’t care who is first or last. I just want us to both be alright.” Bard said and they both laughed quietly.

“And _we_ will be…on one condition.”

“Please don’t make any kinky jokes. I don’t think I can handle that right now.”

“I’m not, if you let me finish. Rude.” Bard mirrored Thranduil’s smirk, until it vanished. “The condition is, you need to listen to your scary father and relax. I want you to breathe, and remember, I _never_ give up.”

Thranduil kissed Bard’s forehead and he felt so at peace that he could weep, but he knew it was not true bliss. It was not the real Thranduil. He was gone, but his words stirred in his head. What it meant was that Thranduil Oropherion was a fighter and he would pull through all of this mess, as long as he had a bit of help.

He was back in the waiting room, facing his father. He nodded and took a seat. He focused on breathing slowly in and out…in and out…in…and out…

He clung to the words Thranduil’s apparition spoke to him, until a few earth shattering words that were far more vital were spoken to him. Thranduil had been settled into his new room and was ready to be seen. Thank the heavens.

The two Bowman men sought out the room through many corridors and elevator rides until finally they asked someone if they were in the right spot and it turned out they were. A kindly nurse led them directly to the room, but they were told to wait, for only two could be in at a time and Thranduil already had his fill of guests inside. A whole new worry took over: Miluiel was certainly inside, but who else? Would Thranduil’s father be there? Would he know who he was? What would happen? What would Bard do or say whether Mr. Oropherion knew who he was or not? Despite all of that, he did hope that Mr. Oropherion was there. He should be there, as long as if his presence was a positive one.

Bard was more patient now than ever, though he did wait a long time; Thranduil’s parents had every right to see him first and to spend as much time as they wanted with him. He was their son, after all.

Brent waited faithfully by Bard’s side until someone came from the room, and luckily it was someone familiar. Miluiel was wiping her face with a tissue as she entered the hall and stopped as soon as she saw people lingering by her son’s room. She first looked at Bard oddly, her fixation on his wounded face, but then she smiled and went right to him to give him a tight embrace which he gladly returned.

“So happy you could make it here.” She said.

“I wouldn’t have missed it.” Bard replied and gestured to his father as they separated. “This is my father, Brent. Da, this is Miluiel Oropherion, Thranduil’s mother.” The two parents gave a nod, a handshake and a brief exchanging of words before Bard interrupted. “So, what’s going on? The woman downstairs said he was in the intensive care unit. Is he going to be okay?”

“Yes, the doctors say he’ll be just fine with time to recover.” Miluiel answered and a large sigh of relief pushed its way out of Bard’s tense body. It wasn’t the same as seeing Thranduil and knowing for himself, but the words were at least a bit comforting. “He was in bad shape when he got here, they said. He’s very lucky things weren’t worse, but he’s still going to need a lot of time to heal.”

“What happened? He doesn’t have any head trauma or anything like that, does he?”

“A mild concussion, and that’s the least of it, besides his scrapes and bruises. His left arm was broken in several places, some of his ribs were fractured, and his lung punctured. They did immediate surgeries, so his arm is in a cast and he’s on oxygen.”

“My god, and they’re sure he’ll be okay?”

“They’re going to keep him here a day or so to make sure his lung doesn’t develop infection, but otherwise they’ve assured us he will make a full recovery. With time, he’ll be able to do everything he could before, just like new.”

“That’s good news.”

“The other driver got away without a scratch. Can you believe that?”

“How?” Brent interjected curiously.

“It was a side collision. They barreled right into the driver’s side of Thranduil’s car running a light.” Bard’s fists tightened, but just as fast as he’d clenched them, he released them. The other person wasn’t what mattered. It was Thranduil that mattered. “You can see him, Bard, but he doesn’t look well.”

“Will you be alright alone?” Brent asked. Truthfully, Bard didn’t know if he would really be alright stepping into that room by himself, but he knew he wouldn’t do it any other way than alone. He nodded.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

“Oropher is inside now. I’ll go in and see if he’ll part with Thranduil for a moment.” Miluiel said and turned away to re-enter the room, but Bard stepped forward and stopped her with a light tough on the arm.

“Oropher?” he asked and his suspicions were confirmed with what she said next.

“Yes, my husband.” A cold tingle danced down his spine as he remembered all he’d heard of this mysterious man, Mr. Oropher Oropherion (how odd), and nothing he’d ever heard of him was good. “He does know that you were due to show up here.” Miluiel added and Bard swallowed a lump that had formed in his now very dry throat.

“Oh, he does?” he muttered stupidly.

“As does Thranduil…I told Oropher everything, Bard. Do not worry, you have nothing to fear from him. Not on this day.”

Her parting words were quite ominous, in Bard’s opinion: “ _Not on this day_.” Had Miluiel really told him _everything?_ Had she told her husband who had such animosity toward homosexuality that his only son, his only child, was in a relationship with someone of the same sex? He figured Mr. Oropherion had somewhat of a heart and he was too engrossed in the state of his son’s health to even consider having a fuss about who, exactly, Bard was and what the details of his relationship with Thranduil were. Not today.

As Bard waited, leaned against the wall with his thumbs circling around each other, he was the calmest he’d been in hours, yet a sickness still scraped the lowest depth of stomach and wouldn’t be extinguished until he could see Thranduil, be by his side, and hear him speak. He knew such sickness would resurface itself even after vanishing for a short period, for there were still other problems regarding Thranduil to be dealt with that would worry him. He convinced himself to push those certain concerns away and tuck them into a dark corner of his mind for another time. The time where he would be unable to suppress those worries would come and it would surely be soon; no point in making himself suffer much more now when he didn’t need to be suffering. If he had any other pain piled onto his shoulders, he might just break entirely. He held onto what stability he’d achieved and clung to the fact that his beloved was in the room next to him, alive and mostly well.

Bard’s stream of consciousness turned into a new direction; he thought himself to be grateful for all the time he’d had to wait to get to the hospital and get to where he stood now. If he’d arrived much earlier and knew Thranduil was in surgery, he would have been much worse off. This entire situation had been hellish, but imagining being in the waiting room while Thranduil was under the knife brought on a whole new horror. He was thankful that he didn’t have to endure that kind of stress.

“I’m gonna go give your ma a call, tell her we got here safe and all. I’ll maybe grab a coffee or something.” Brent mumbled and Bard nodded, watching as he walked off. He was also thankful that his father had left the rifle at home and that he’d been so supportive through this whole ordeal.

Just as one father left, another appeared. He was a blatant wreck as he swept into the hall, sobbing quietly in a disheveled suit. His face was turned away and what of it Bard could have seen was covered with a handkerchief. All Bard could see of him was that he was immensely tall and broad shouldered with short, pale gold hair reminiscent of Thranduil’s. He didn’t so much as acknowledge Bard as he passed, but Miluiel shot him a glance and an encouraging nod as she followed at her husband’s heels. He looked after them for a brief moment, bewildered by the fact that the infamous, supposedly villainous Mr. Oropherion, had just walked by him and not even looked in his direction. He was not surprised, though. Even if the man was as cold and vile as he was rumored to be, he was obviously in a very delicate position. Bard wondered if he was so shaken over just Thranduil’s well-being, or if something more had gone on in that room. Dwelling on possibilities would not bring him any answers. Thranduil was waiting for him.

He pulled a breath down his throat and let it fill and expand his lungs before letting it out slowly. He braced himself and then approached the door, turned in, and stopped.

Everything was white and sterile. There was the obvious beeping sounding off from machines in the room that were hooked up to Thranduil’s body, indicating that he was definitely alive. The blonde was positioned on the bed underneath the thin blankets, his eyes closed and his head sunken into the plush pillow beneath it. His hair was secured in a messy bun on the top of his head. Bard tried to find serenity in his expression, but it was difficult to see such a thing when there was a tube strapped over his face going into his nose and patches of his usually alabaster and flawless skin were bubbled up and colored with shades of red, purple, blue, and black in an abnormal fashion. The marks stained the left side of his facial complexion. There was a notable swell on his bottom lip that was absolutely large and menacing. There were some more discolorations scattered over his forehead and nose along with many lesions, but besides the left side of his face, that same side of his neck appeared to have had the worst of the light category of damage. Though it was not as severe as the other injuries he’d sustained, the bruises and cuts looked ghastly enough on their own. He shuddered at the thought of what the rest of his sore body must have looked like beneath the gown and bandages, His arm was as Miluiel said, clad in a bulging cast. All in all, he looked like hell. He looked ill and frail, like if Bard even looked at him too hard he would break.

It was then that Thranduil’s eyes opened right on Bard. The brunette froze, his knees locked. As eager as he’d been to see his boyfriend, this moment was terrifying and nightmarish. Thranduil shouldn’t be there in the condition he was in, but he was…but he was also _alive_.

A rush of tears disoriented his vision and he wiped them quickly away before his emotions released themselves in a full blown bawling session. His breath started slipping from his control, but he swallowed down his cries and held himself together. Now all he needed to do was will himself to move. He felt as if the strength would never come to him, that he would just stand there until the end of time, until Thranduil’s lips formed as big of a smile as they could and he extended his good arm, reaching out to him and beckoning him forward. That was just the push he needed! He barreled forward, bent over the bed, and finally held Thranduil Oropherion in his arms again.

Thranduil’s hand just grazed his back. The embrace was gentle. Bard had to restrain himself from collapsing onto the fragile blonde and from squeezing him with all of the affection buzzing inside of him. This would do. This was fine, perfect, really. If this was all Bard could have for eternity, then so be it.

Neither of them said anything for a time, for they were simply elated to finally be reunited with the other. Bard was the one to break away from their stance, taking Thranduil’s fingers rubbing at his side and slipping down to his side as a sign to let go. Perhaps he didn’t wish for their contact to be broken, but Bard knew he was, of course, still exhausted from everything he’d endured. So Bard moved away only to sit in a chair very close to the bedside. He glanced at Thranduil’s bandaged hand sticking out of his cast and then decided to hold the other one. Thranduil’s eyes glittered through his apparent fatigue as they looked steady into Bard’s, beautiful as ever.

“I’m so happy you came.” Thranduil spoke, his voice small, but his lips still fixed with a genuine smile. Bard smiled back, so overjoyed. Those words filled him with radiant light and he felt closer to his boyfriend than ever. He was so bare, so exposed, more than ever before and Bard could feel his vulnerability. He had been scared, no doubt, and wasted no time supporting the walls he used to keep Bard at bay. He had a feeling those walls had fallen for good.

“Of course I came, Thranduil.” Bard answered in a near whisper and his gaze flickered upward, caught by something catching his attention. He glanced briefly, not caring about anything else that would distract him from his love, but he did a double take and was taken aback at first as it clicked in his head what the object he saw was: a silver ribbon tied into a bow was wrapped around the band keeping all of his tresses in his bun. It was not just any ribbon. It was the ribbon Bard had chosen specifically to spruce up the single lily he’d gifted to Thranduil, the one that he was drawn to because it reminded him of the blonde he hardly knew at the time, the one Thranduil had dangling from his rearview mirror. “That’s…”

“It is.” Thranduil finished, seeing that Bard was too busy staring at the ribbon with his mouth wide open to finish his sentence. “I needed you with me and I thought if I just held onto it that you’d come.”

“I would come, silly ribbon or not!” Bard exclaimed and wiped a tear of joy from his cheek. He bowed his head down onto the back of Thranduil’s hand and then kissed it longingly, sending sparks flying all over the blonde’s hand that screamed of how much Bard loved him. Thranduil gave a short sound resembling a laugh and he stroked Bard’s jaw with his thumb.

“That’s not all; look over there.” He said and Bard lifted his head, turning in one direction and then the other until he saw just what Thranduil was referring to. His smile spread into a grin and a laugh rose in his chest, aimed at the giant elk plush sitting atop a table that was within arm’s reach.

“Are you telling me you had that thing in the car and you dragged it along with you to the ambulance all the way here?” Bard mused and Thranduil shook his head a little with a smirk twitching on his lips.

“No, but I would have. My mother brought it for me. I told her when I brought it home how much it means to me, so…here it is. I prefer your company, though.”

A quality in Thranduil’s tone made Bard invest his gaze in his expression past all of the injuries, and he saw it shift uncomfortably. His grip around Thranduil’s hand grew tighter and he leaned even more forward, pressing himself against the edge of the bedside.

“Are you in pain?” Bard asked.

“Not so much. They gave me a lot of meds to stave it off. What about you?”

The center of his gaze came to be the current mess that was Bard’s nose and the brunette’s eyes widened at him in response, very astounded looking.

“ _Me?_ I’m not the one in a hospital bed…I mean, I was earlier, but that’s not the point.”

“But it is. It’s the _whole_ point.” Thranduil said with a peculiar smile breaking through his troubled face. Bard simply shook his head and looked him dearly in his blue eyes, speaking softly.

“Thranduil, we don’t have to do this now. You need to focus on resting and healing. We’ll have time to talk.”

“I’m not chancing it. I want to talk now.” Thranduil paused, expecting that Bard would likely try to stifle him and insist the conversation was not to be held at that particular time or place, but the brunette stayed quiet, allowing Thranduil to proceed. “Bard, all I could think about once I realized I was still alive was how much I love you and how horrible I was to you. I’m sorry doesn’t even convey how sorry I really am.”

“I understand.” Bard said hushedly and ceased speaking very abruptly as if he had more to say, but he couldn’t force it out. There was so much he wanted to articulate into words just for the sake of venting, but he figured since the words did not come pouring out of him that they did not really need to be spoken. He knew he would be okay and all Thranduil needed to know was that everything would be alright, that he understood, and that he supported him. “I understand why you did what you did and I forgive you.” Bard repeated with a bit more clarification.

“I’m going to do it. I’m going to go to the resident rehab program for my…depression and the drinking thing. I’ll just go and hope things get better, I guess. I know I need to do _something_.”

“I’m glad.” Bard said, despite the fact that the words “depression” and “drinking thing” had come off the blonde’s tongue like he were spitting them out, disgusted by them. He kissed Thranduil’s hand again and then stood. He leaned over the bed to press his lip against the clear and intact side of Thranduil’s face. He left a few: one for the cheek, one by the eye, and then one on the hairline. “I’m glad.” He whispered close to the ear and then sat back down, seeing a solemnness dominate Thranduil’s expression. “What is it?”

“This sucks.”

“It looks like it does.” Bard joked lightly and Thranduil’s smile betrayed the rolling of his eyes.

“Not that, but yeah, this sucks too. Definitely no rough, kinky sex for me anytime soon.”

“What did you mean?” the brunette questioned, prodding toward what exactly, if not his physical condition, was giving him a grim face.

“It sucks that now I’m going to spend probably the rest of the summer locked up with a bunch of other loonies.”

“They’re not loonies and neither are you.” Bard corrected and Thranduil sighed.

“I know, I just…I know I have to do it, I know, but…I can’t expect you to wait for me. That wouldn’t be fair. Don’t pity me and stick around just because I love you.”

“I won’t be _waiting_ , Thran and I won’t be sticking around out of pity, either. I love you too, remember? Did the accident rattle that out of your head?”

“No. How can I forget? It means you’ll be in pain as long as I’m gone.”

“It’ll stink not having you around as much, but you’re alive and you’re going to get the help you deserve. You’ll come out better than ever and you’ll feel great knowing that you did it on your own.”

“That’s just it. I have to do this _on my own_ and I’m scared.” Thranduil admitted and took in a sharp breath. As he exhaled, tears trickled over the swells along his skin. Bard would have wiped them away if he hadn’t feared hurting his beloved in doing so. He squeezed Thranduil’s hand tight.

“I know you’re scared, but you don’t have to do it completely alone. I’ll just be there to remind you of how wonderful you are and to give you a little extra juice when you need it. In the end when you’ve made your accomplishment, it will ultimately be yours because _you_ pulled through and persevered. _You_ will have come out on the better side of things. And your family and friends will be there for you too, just to help you remember what your efforts are for when times get tough. I’ll visit you whenever I’m allowed, I’ll do everything.”

“You will?” Thranduil asked in a manner that could only be seen as meek and defenseless.

“I will. What part of forever and a day don’t you get?” Bard assured with a grin, evoking a small laugh from the blonde.

“You’re sure you don’t want to go solo for a while?”

“Why would I want that?”

“You’re going to be lonely…I understand if you want to have someone to knock boots with, you know?”

“Thranduil!”

“What I’m saying is I give you permission. We’ll still be together-”

“Alright, I know they’ve got you on meds and it’s been a long day, so I’ll excuse your nonsense.”

“It’s not nonsense. I’m being completely serious.” Thranduil stated, deadpan.

“It is nonsense. I’m not going to ‘knock boots’ with anyone else but you. If I have to wait, so be it. It’s not on my list of things to worry about.”

“I’m giving you a free pass and you’re turning it down?”

“Of course I am, you lunatic!” Bard chuckled and Thranduil frowned.

“You said I wasn’t a loonie.”

“You’re not, darling, you’re not, but what you’re saying is ridiculous. Who the hell could even compete with you anyway? Bruised up or not, you are my one and only, my beautiful angel.”

“I don’t know, Bilbo’s pretty damn cute.”

“PFFFT!”

Bard had to keep himself from doubling over with hysterical laughter at such an idea; him and Bilbo! Bard Bowman and Bilbo Baggins! _Having sex_ , of all things! What an awful train-wreck that would be! Thranduil supplied the tiniest of laughs at seeing how comical his boyfriend found the suggestion.

“So I guess we can’t do a threesome either.” Thranduil spoke and Bard waved it off as his muffled laughter finally settled.

“Stop, you’re killing me. Never say anything like that again, please. So no, I reject your very weird offer. I shall remain celibate until you are ready.”

“Good. That would have driven me nuts if you said yes.”

“Why would you make such a bizarre offer, then? You know what, never mind. It doesn’t matter one bit.”

“You know what part of this sucks the most?”

“No. What is it?”

“My father has finally agreed to let me live my life the way I want, without the drinking, obviously. Other than that, everything is gay okay.”

Bard stared at Thranduil as if he’d heard something wrong, or as if he hadn’t been able to hear what he said at all. His senses were stunned into dysfunction. When it finally hit him and a light clicked on in his head, his mouth fell gaping open.

“Why on earth is _that_ the worst part?!” he exclaimed, leaving Thranduil looking quite taken aback.

“Well now that he’s okay with me having a boyfriend, I’m going to be stuck in rehab, so I can’t really enjoy my homo freedom, can I?”

“Are you actually complaining? What, I mean, how? What happened?”

“My mother took the liberty of giving him every last detail that I’d told her when she found out about the accident. She spilled it all and when he came in here, he sat down and said my near death experience enlightened him and that if I had died, he would have never forgiven himself for holding my sexuality against me. It was…odd. I’d never seen him cry before…ever. I’m still kind of in disbelief. It hasn’t really sunken in all the way. I think my body is refusing to let itself be even more emotionally drained than it already is, so it’ll come eventually and we’ll probably cry and hug. Blah blah. I don’t know. I suddenly feel like I’m talking a lot.”

“You are, but that’s all such great news, Thran! This is the perfect start to your recovery. I couldn’t be happier. I would have liked for this to all come about without you getting maimed, but the road looks clear from here.” Bard beamed and Thranduil blinked at him tiredly. “You need some sleep, love.”

“No, I don’t want you to go.” The blonde refuted with a whine.

“I won’t go. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“I don’t want to sleep.”

“You need to. I can see so.”

“Can you read to me?”

“I can.” Bard chuckled and spotted Thranduil’s bag lying by the bedside table. He leaned from his chair to drag it over and then opened it, looking inside and flipping through the blonde’s collection of Shakespeare works and ignoring all the sex toys and silly things at the bottom.

“Read from Romeo and Juliet.” Thranduil requested, and so Bard obeyed and plucked the book from the bag.

Bard set the bag down and situated himself in his chair so he sat more comfortably. He cracked open the book and started flicking through the pages, knowing which place he was seeking. As he found it, he propped the book open with one hand and with the other, he took hold of Thranduil’s. He cleared his throat before starting with a soothing tone, alternating between more masculine and feminine voices to fit the roles of both Romeo and Juliet:

“If I profane with my unworthiest hand this holy shrine, the gentle fine is this: my lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.

Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, which mannerly devotion shows in this; for saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch, and palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss.

Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?

Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.

O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do. They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.

Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake.

Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take.”

He paused to kiss Thranduil’s hand, following the text, for the stage direction read Romeo then kissed his dear Juliet.

“Thus from my lips, by thine, my sin is purged.

Then have my lips the sin that they have took.

Sin from thy lips? O trespass sweetly urged!

Give me my sin again.”

Another kiss was bestowed from the brunette onto the blonde’s hand.                    

“You kiss by th' book.”

Bard smiled to himself, enjoying this particular passaged. He let his gaze float upward to his boyfriend who was now fast asleep. He was truly a sight to behold, wounds and all. Bard sighed and laid his head gingerly on Thranduil’s lap, soon drifting into a well needed slumber himself.


End file.
